


Keep My Body Near

by slushiepuff



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Bed-sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Gratuitous Hand-Holding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slushiepuff/pseuds/slushiepuff
Summary: He told himself it was for the war effort, the fact that the conversations were some of the most interesting he had ever had was simply a side benefit.The fact that Aaravos’ voice was incredibly compelling had nothing to do with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song Superstar by MARINA.
> 
> My friend and I normally refer to the Aarapod as Colin and I would like everyone to know just how difficult it was not to call him Colin in the fic itself.
> 
> This fic was beta'd by the wonderful [Nael06](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nael06/profile) who always keeps me on my toes.

In the end, Viren discovered the mirror’s properties, like most discoveries, by accident.

 

He had been working late in his study searching for something that would give them an advantage in the war. The lack of retaliation from Xadia after the death of Thunder and supposed death of the Dragon Prince’s egg was beginning to put the council and the King on edge, although Harrow did his best not to show it.

 

After hours of fruitless research Viren had given up for the evening, but instead of returning to his rooms to sleep he had sat down in front of the mirror, a mystery that had also been weighing on him since their attack, and lost himself in ponderings of the war.

 

While he would never say this to Harrow, privately he felt that the mirror should have been made his most pressing concern. It didn’t sit right with him knowing that Thunder himself had kept this item so close in his lair and attempt after failed attempt to reveal its secrets were beginning to frustrate him. Only the pressures of war, the need to research and prepare for retaliation, prevented Viren from driving himself mad over the thing. He knew himself well enough to know that given the opportunity for rest he would always prioritise the Kingdom and he had a feeling that the mirror would have a part to play.

 

But the King and his orders would always come first.

 

The thought echoed in his head as he fell asleep still seated in front of his own reflection.

 

And woke to the study lit only by a cold glow emanating from the mirror.

 

Viren threw an uncertain glance over his shoulder to make sure that he was indeed still in his study. Sure enough, he had not moved although the candles had long burnt themselves out and the fireplace held naught but embers.

 

He stood up, leaning in close to inspect the mirror and, more importantly, the room behind the glass. A study, judging by the books and the desk. Although the study was currently empty, there was a door that led somewhere else. The implication that he was seeing into part of someone’s living space was obvious.

 

Viren made the immediate decision to move the mirror elsewhere, at least until he knew more about who lived inside and what threat they might pose. People came into his study far too often for this mirror to be kept safely hidden there, Harrow often passed through to discuss things with him, as did other diplomats.

 

With a simple levitation spell, Viren navigated through the familiar hidden passages to his private workshop with the mirror in tow. He opted to install the mirror in one of the cells in the dungeons. Claudia sometimes made use of the workshop, but she would have no reason to go down to the cells. She did not need to know about this, it was for her own safety.

 

* * *

 

Viren knew of the existence of Startouch elves and creatures in theory, but they were notoriously rare and he had never actually encountered one. If the symbol on his chest was anything to go by, one such elf stood before him now. If that was truly what he was, Viren had never seen an elf or any creature that shined with starlight the way this one did.

 

Said Startouch elf had presented him with a ritual.

 

Viren went along with it, for the most part, driven by his interest in this new creature. Following the ritual seemed like the most expedient way to figure out what this elf wanted. But Viren was forced to stop when it became clear that it had all been part of a blood ritual. Blood rituals were powerful, dangerous things, often binding. He needed to think this through.

 

He covered the mirror and pretended he wasn’t fleeing out of the room.

 

Viren tried to distract himself from the elf and the niggling curiosity tempting him in the back of his mind by throwing himself into more futile research.

 

He didn’t last a week.

 

In the end it didn't take much to send him running back to the mirror.

 

“Any ideas, Viren?”

 

A simple question coupled with a tense smile from Harrow had done the job just fine.

 

* * *

 

After the initial discomfort of going through the ritual and getting used to the sensation of the caterpillar resting around the shell of his ear, Viren had taken to asking questions of the elf in the mirror. Aaravos, as he had called himself.

 

Aaravos had been less than forthcoming on his history and how he had come to be in the mirror, which Viren had immediately taken as cause for distrust, not to mention the unnerving way all mention of him had disappeared from the library. In fact, Viren should probably have thrown the mirror into the deepest waters the moment he had realized that Thunder had personally been guarding this creature’s prison. It couldn’t have been more obvious that Xadia considered Aaravos to be dangerous, but his insights into the magical properties of various plants and creatures had Viren returning time after time.

 

He told himself it was for the war effort, the fact that the conversations were some of the most interesting he had ever had was simply a side benefit. The fact that Aaravos’ voice was incredibly compelling had nothing to do with it.

 

And Viren certainly did not spend a majority of their conversations staring at the various constellations that littered the elf’s body.

 

* * *

 

It took Viren a couple weeks to realize something very important about Aaravos.

 

Most of the time Viren visited the mirror with clear questions in mind. Not today. Today Viren had wandered down to the cell without any topic to discuss in particular. Which left him standing there in front of the mirror either until he was noticed or thought of something say.

 

Aaravos stood by his desk, back turned to Viren, leaning over some book or other. The elf probably knew that Viren had entered, the caterpillar had uncurled itself at the bottom of its jar and started clambering at the glass the moment he had opened the door. If the caterpillar had heard, so had Aaravos.

 

Although Viren thought it rude that he was being left unacknowledged, he was also grateful. It allowed him time to think of something to say. For want of something to do with his hands, Viren picked the caterpillar up from its jar and placed it in the palm of his hand.

 

It did not run up to his ear, it hadn’t done that since the first time he had spoken to Aaravos and that was fine by him, instead it stood still, looking up at him almost expectantly. When he didn’t do anything other than examine it with interest, it seemed to dismiss him with a turn of its head before crawling in a circle in the middle of his palm twice, settling down, and curling up again.

 

Viren followed suit and sat down in the chair in front of the mirror. He considered the caterpillar before him. He had never seen anything quite like it nor had he ever asked Aaravos about it. Startouch creatures were just as rare as Startouch elves, and this creature at the very least held a lot of magic in its little body. He thought of his first time seeing the caterpillar as it had crawled out of Aaravos’ mouth with equal amounts of intrigue and disgust. The real question was whether that magic was inherent to it or if it had been bestowed upon the caterpillar by the Aaravos himself.

 

It was a funny thing though and had exhibited moments of unexpected personality, dismissing him was a clear example. It was unclear whether the personality was its own or if it acted as a conduit for Aaravos’ emotions.

 

“You’re an odd, little thing, did you know that?”

 

The caterpillar looked up at Viren, head cocked to the side. It looked, he hesitated to think it, inquisitive. The little action almost made Viren smile, he stroked its back with the tip of his finger in return. He felt the caterpillar tense and relax in his palm but a movement in the mirror caught his attention.

 

Aaravos, who aside from turning the pages of his book occasionally, had been mostly still was now leaning heavily against the desk, head tilted back. Viren had only a split second to be alarmed before he registered the expression on the elf’s face. He could only see part of it but he could tell that Aaravos' eyes were gently closed and his mouth was slightly parted, the lines of his face were completely relaxed. It looked like bliss.

 

Viren saw the exact moment Aaravos remembered himself as the soft, sloping lines of his shoulders snapped back and his neck straightened. And with a deep breath his whole body relaxed into an imitation of his previous posture, standing casually over his book.

 

Viren had a theory.

 

This time with his attention resting fully on Aaravos, he gave the caterpillar another long stroke. Aaravos did not slump over the desk but Viren saw him tense, the muscles in his arms standing out for a moment as he forced himself not to move. The shudder that travelled down the elf’s spine only confirmed his suspicions.

 

Firstly, the caterpillar was capable of passing on sensations to Aaravos. It was useful knowledge to have and it certainly provided Viren with power over the elf should he need it but was redundant unless he was planning on the use of torture.

 

Secondly, judging by the expression of what was surely pleasure, the elf relished the simple sensation of the lightest touch.

 

It wasn’t a far-fetched concept. While Viren had little by concrete information on him, Aaravos had implied more than once that he had been in the mirror for an extended period of time. He had seen for himself how weeks alone could ruin someone, leave them craving for even the softest touch. All he really knew about Startouch elves aside from their obvious connection to the Star arcanum was of their supposed longevity, and if true, a long time by Aaravos’ standards must be very long indeed.

 

It was nearly enough to make him consider helping Aaravos escape his prison. The opportunity for Viren to strike some sort of bargain in that situation was clear, Aaravos’ freedom for his help in the war. But that would require more research, he didn’t have the first clue on how to break the spell on the mirror, although he was certain Aaravos had some ideas. Nonetheless, that course of action would first require more deliberation. After all, he had no idea what he would be unleashing upon the world.

 

For now he would settle on questioning Aaravos on the caterpillar, although he would avoid the questions regarding its ability to transmit sensations. Aaravos’ careful control over his own body the second time he had brushed his finger over the caterpillar’s back spoke of the desire to keep that particular function hidden and Viren wanted to keep his own knowledge on the matter to himself as well.

 

He picked up the caterpillar from his hand and placed it behind his ear, shivering a little when he felt it move into place and secure itself there.

 

His suspicions that Aaravos had known he was there the entire time were further confirmed when Aaravos began turning to face him before the caterpillar had even reached his ear.

 

Viren considered his questions on the caterpillar as Aaravos walked to meet him at the mirror. His eyes caught on the tattered edges of the sheer fabric that covered the elf’s shoulders. Viren was reminded of Aaravos’s enigmatic smile which he used to conceal the melancholic air that surrounded him. But sometimes it fell short.

 

And today must have been one of those times because his mouth asked a very different question to the one he had planned.

 

“How do you feel about getting out of there?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support I've received so far, I'm really feeling the love!
> 
> I'm excited to say that [wormwyrld](https://twitter.com/wormwyrld/) drew [the caterpillar](https://twitter.com/wormwyrld/status/1111529130112118789) sleeping in Viren's hand and it is super cute!

Apparently Aaravos had not been expecting to be offered his freedom so soon.

 

It was the first time Viren had seen Aaravos look startled. His stride faltered from its usual grace for a just moment and his last few steps towards mirror were slower, more deliberate, though no less elegant. His head cocked to the side and his expression did not betray much aside from a couple of slow blinks directed at Viren. His ears on the other hand had perked up for an instant before returning to their usual positions.

 

Viren would have found the little motion endearing if he hadn’t been busy chiding himself over the impulsive question.

 

Aaravos continued to stare, Viren couldn’t help but feel that the sincerity of his question was being assessed. The silence was beginning to make him feel uneasy when Aaravos’ blank face finally melted into a pleased smirk.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

And so began their first detailed discussion on the mirror’s magical properties. Viren tried his best to hide his displeasure at the direction the conversation had taken, which was to say very much not on the magical properties of the caterpillar. He would also have to find a way to introduce a bargain without seeming like he was going back on his word, there was no need to make an enemy out of a powerful ally.

 

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself, his own mouth had acted against him. He didn’t know what he would have done if he had had a few days to consider his options, or even a few hours.

 

His mind flashed to Harrow’s strained shoulders in the last council meeting.

 

No, he was lying. He did know.

 

He had simply sped up the timeline.

 

* * *

 

Viren cursed his leg as he struggled down the spiral staircase to the dungeons. With both hands occupied, carrying a tower of books, he was left to navigate down the steps without his staff. He didn’t even manage to get halfway down before his knee began to twinge, shooting sparks of pain up his thigh. He managed to get down the staircase, but was left with the familiar constant pain that came with over exerting his leg.

 

He wished he had not been so prideful as to believe that he did not need to levitate the books, foolishly thinking himself capable of carrying them down himself. But there was no point thinking about that now that he had made it, he began making his way to what he’d come to the think of as Aaravos’ cell.

 

Aaravos had indeed had some ideas, spells and rituals that he had already developed and had taken apparently great satisfaction in describing their individual complexities to Viren. He had been decidedly less self-assured when he admitted to Viren that all his attempts at using them from the inside of the mirror had failed.

 

Failed though they had, Viren had to admit that they were impressive feats of intellect, although he would never readily admit that to Aaravos, and their potentials could still be tested outside of the mirror. As such, the first few days had consisted of Viren attempting the rituals and the spells that were based on the Sky Arcanum using the Sky Primal Stone. To no avail.

 

Which was why Viren was on his third trip towards emptying the library of its collection of books on the subject of magic. With simple rituals being seemingly useless, they had taken to experimenting and developing new ones. Aaravos never failed to provide enlightening suggestions although he always forced Viren to chase the idea to the end himself. He could hear Claudia and Soren laughing at the irony in the back of his mind. It somehow made combining rituals and spells an enjoyable, intellectually stimulating activity while remaining thoroughly aggravating.

 

Viren glanced at the book at the top of the pile, _The History of Blood Magic_. Aaravos had implied that such powerful magic would probably require something just as potent to defeat. It made him uneasy but he would not go back on his word if it became necessary.

 

It had crossed his mind that he should inform Harrow of Aaravos and his agreement to help in the war, but something stopped him everytime he tried. Harrow, with his honorable, blind justice would jump at the chance of freeing this creature. He would say that decades, possibly centuries, of solitary confinement was punishment enough for even the worst of crimes. But at the end of day Aaravos was an elf, one deemed incredibly dangerous by Xadia. Would Harrow allow that kind of potential threat to take root in his court?

 

Viren sighed, it would be truly helpful in making the decision on whether or not to tell Harrow if Aaravos would only be more forthcoming on his crimes. But as it stands, Viren had everything under control and would take responsibility should they be questioned on the matter.

 

When he finally made it to the cell, Aaravos’ study was empty. Viren walked straight to the table to deposit the books with a thud that shook the caterpillars new bowl.

 

It was the size of a fish bowl with a fine metal grate on top, at the bottom of it was a bed of moss of that the caterpillar lay curled upon. It raised its head to look at the intrusion for an instant before laying back down. What Viren had gathered from previous times the caterpillar had done this was that Aaravos was currently occupied with something, but now that he was aware of his presence, he was surely on his way.

 

Viren searched the pouch on his belt and pulled out a sturdy twig that still had some fresh leaves attached to it. The caterpillar immediately perked up when it saw what he was holding.

 

He reached into the bowl with the twig, taking care to place it so that one end was firmly secured in the moss and the other rested on the surface of the bowl. The caterpillar climbed on to it before Viren had even finished adjusting the leaves.

 

Apparently incredibly taken with its new toy, the caterpillar immediately started running up and down and under the twig.

 

Viren smiled. “Well, I’m glad you enjoy your gift.”

 

The caterpillar stopped its running on the underside of the twig, facing Viren it let go with its front legs and swung the top its body briefly before making its way to the underside of one of the leaves. Viren was fairly certain it was showing off. Weighed down by the creature, the leaf lowered until the caterpillar was able to repeats its little trick, this time its front legs reached the moss and it managed to lower its entire body to the ground.

 

The caterpillar ran back up the twig to where it lay against the bowl and started scrabbling at the glass, clearly demanding to be picked up. Even with the twig it was unable to reach the rim of the bowl.

 

Viren obliged.

 

The moment the caterpillar was in his hand, it began running across his palm and over the back his hand.

 

He observed its scurrying and asked, “I don’t suppose you can tell me what your master is in that mirror for?”

 

He realized that Aaravos could hear him but he didn’t particularly care. Aaravos was very well aware of his frustration over the matter and frankly he was tired of asking the question directly to the elf only to be rewarded with smirks and various combinations of words that invariably implied the sentiment  _wouldn’t you like to know?_

 

He didn’t expect an answer. In fact, he was fairly certain that their little mode of communication was not capable of speaking for itself.  

 

The caterpillar changed its tactic, running up his fingers and squeezing through them instead. When it became clear to Viren that it was not going to stop moving anytime soon, he picked up and placed the caterpillar in the middle of his palm and and started stroking it. It calmed down immediately.

 

Although Viren was used to ignoring his injuries, he want to rest his leg. He moved to the chair, groaning in relief as he sank into it. His hands still occupied by the caterpillar. Viren continued his ministrations on the little creature.

 

Viren had grown fond of the caterpillar itself and had taken to petting it once or twice each time he picked it up. Its inherent connection to Aaravos also meant the elf was probably feeling every touch he imparted upon it.

 

Viren was all too keen to take advantage of the reminder of his power over the elf but he had to wonder at the effect it had on Aaravos.

 

He must have been lonely, stranded in that mirror for years without company. There was the possibility that Aaravos was able to cast illusions to keep himself distracted from his isolation but the effectiveness of companionship that was entirely under one’s own control seemed feeble at best. Then again, was the touch of another transferred through a vessel really any better? Apparently so if his reaction was anything to go by.

 

And most urgently of all, was Aaravos even aware that Viren knew exactly what he was doing?

 

While he had nothing in the cell by which to tell how much time had passed, the ache in Viren’s leg had lessened considerably since his arrival. He glanced into the mirror, irritated and a little curious. Normally, he didn’t have to wait long for Aaravos to show up, Viren doubted the elf had anything significant to occupy his time outside of his books. However, he was certainly taking his time today.

 

Viren realized rather abruptly that he was still petting the caterpillar.

 

He had spent the last however long considering the general experiences of touch Aaravos might have had while in the mirror, but had completely forgotten the immediate effect he might have been evoking with his finger stroking the caterpillar.

 

His gaze was drawn to the door. So far, Aaravos had suffered his attentions on the caterpillar with grace. But with the privacy the door afforded him...

 

Viren recalled Aaravos’ face, soft with the thrill of touch and the sigh that he didn’t hear but definitely saw. His neck had been thoroughly exposed and Viren had seen stars under his jawline and chin as well.

 

That very same scenario could have been occurring behind the door right then and Viren wouldn’t have know any different.

 

With his face undoubtedly flushed, Viren pulled his hand away. The caterpillar looked up at him curiously, clearly wondering why he had stopped in this most thorough pampering session yet.

 

Aaravos was an objectively beautiful creature, no one could fault Viren for finding him attractive. Yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty for thinking it, the King’s closest advisor should never be so easily swayed by the sight of a pretty face.

 

Viren couldn’t even look at the creature. He was grateful Aaravos didn’t immediately enter his study, he needed a moment to collect himself. He pinched his nose desperately wishing he had a wash basin in the dungeons so that he could cool down.

 

The possibility that Aaravos was making the most of his privacy was more than likely.

 

At this point, Viren wasn’t certain he would be able to look at Aaravos without noting his allure and declaring his thoughts by blushing furiously, nor would he be able to ask what had taken the elf so long to show up.

 

The door finally opened. Viren scowled, his prior embarrassment washed away, only to be replaced with ire. Aaravos had entered looking altogether far too composed for someone who Viren was nearly certain had been melting under his touch behind that very door not five minutes ago.

 

As per usual, Viren moved the caterpillar to his ear. In his annoyance, he was perhaps a little rougher with the creature than he ought to have been and was rewarded with a sharp, if slight, pain around the shell of his ear as the caterpillar’s grip tightened more securely than usual. It was fair, the caterpillar had done nothing to deserve the rough treatment from Viren. He reached to up give it an apologetic stroke.

 

Aaravos didn’t apologize for his tardiness nor did he offer any explanations and Viren himself refused to resort to demanding respect from him.

 

The elf didn’t even offer him a proper greeting, instead his attention fell on Viren’s ear and then the caterpillars newly furnished bowl on the table.

 

“You have taken quite a liking to our little friend, haven’t you, Viren?” Aaravos smirked. “You humans truly will packbond with anything.”

 

So they were beginning with insults today. All his previous concerns were wiped away, beauty meant nothing in the face of an insufferable personality.

 

Viren sniffed. “It happens to be our best quality when it comes to survival.”

 

It unnerved him when Aaravos’ smile only widened in response.

 

Clearing his throat, Viren stood up with only a slight twinge in his leg. “I’ve brought more books.” There was a huff on the other side of the mirror which Viren pointedly ignored. “Including one on blood magic.”

 

Viren glanced at the mirror, Aaravos was looking at the book at the top of the pile with great interest.

 

Truthfully, Aaravos’ insistent focus on blood magic made him a little nervous, but he swallowed it down and spoke with confidence he didn’t feel, “I see you’re ready to begin.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

Devising the ritual needed to free Aaravos from confinement and actually conducting the ritual turned out to be very small aspects of their self-appointed task. In their weeks of research, it became abundantly clear that it was going to be a much more arduous process when they realized the spell was going to require many now rare ingredients spanning Xadia.

 

To Viren’s dismay, it was also definitely going to require blood, something to indicate that the caster was not the prisoner.

 

Viren reviewed the list with Aaravos, trying to figure out the most likely places some of the ingredients would be. Many times Viren showed concern as to how they would acquire certain items only to have Aaravos scoff at him. His condescension was clear and he made it apparent that he thought Viren worried for no reason.

 

Tired of Aaravos’ flippancy on the subject, Viren threw his hand towards Aaravos, pointing accusingly. “You don’t seem to understand how rare some of these items have become in the last _thousand_ years!”

 

The elf’s gaze turned sharply towards Viren and stared, unreadable.

 

Viren had raised his voice at the elf to no effect before, he might have wondered at the strange reaction but he was too incensed to care and turned back to the list. “I would appreciate it if you would accept it at face value that this is going to take some time.”

 

The next time Viren glanced at the mirror, Aaravos had a sombre air about him. His hands flicked idly through a book but his eyes were unfocused, pensive. It was the first time Viren had seen Aaravos anything other than completely present.

 

Viren swallowed. He knew it must have been something he had said. He didn’t want to even consider that a thousand years had been the accurate period of imprisonment Aaravos had suffered.

 

No. It must have simply been the reminder of the elf’s long captivity or the long years he didn’t get to experience. He refused to feel guilty about it. Or at least he tried.

 

They didn’t speak for a long time after that.

 

* * *

 

Excursions into Xadia had become rare with the Sunfire elves gathering at the border, but Viren had made sure to accompany them himself, claiming the need to gather ingredients. No one had argued, not even Harrow, old injuries aside he was still useful in a fight.

 

Despite all the magical items used, the ritual had drained more from Viren than he had expected it would. The whole ordeal had left him standing shaky and exhausted in front of the mirror, and his staff had long been abandoned by the door. If his collar were not damp with sweat from the exertion, he was fairly certain it would be stiff with blood from adjusting it with his injured hand.

 

His hand which was sore from yet another cut, he had told Aaravos that at this rate he would have a scar there to remember the elf by. He had been rewarded with only a ghost of the usual smirk.

 

It had taken nearly three months, but they had done it.The mirror had lost the muted effect that had stood between Aaravos’ prison and the rest of world. It looked to all like nothing, not even the clearest glass, separated them. Or at least it appeared they had succeeded.

 

All that was left was for Aaravos to step through.

 

Aaravos stood frozen on the other side, hardly breathing. His hand was outstretched, just shy of touching the surface of the mirror, but he didn’t seem able to force himself to act, to take the leap. Only his eyes moved, flickering between his hand and the edges of mirror, never focusing on what lay beyond. The apprehension was there for all to see.

 

Viren suspected that the elf did not want to touch the surface lest he get his hopes crushed because it turned out the spell didn’t work. He could sympathize with that, and the idea that they had worked so hard only to be thwarted at the very last step, weighed on his mind as well. Or perhaps he feared leaving the familiarity of his prison for the first time in centuries. Either way, while Viren was content to let Aaravos gather up his own courage while he caught his breath, he realized that prolonging this tension was not doing anyone any favors.

 

Viren reached through.

 

The seemingly non-existent surface of the mirror rippled, leaving him with a heavy sensation, very similar to sinking his hand into wet sand. He stopped when his fingers were halfway through, curiosity getting the better of him. He opened and closed his fist, exploring the odd sensation as his fingers cut through the mirror.

 

Curiosity abated, he pushed through until almost half his forearm was on the other side. His skin continued to tingle where the mirror cut through his arm.

 

Viren hesitated, wondering for a moment at how the elf’s skin would feel. Would it be warm or cool? Rough or smooth? And what about the twinkling stars? He dismissed the questions. After all, he was about to find out anyway.

 

He took gentle hold of Aaravos’ wrist.

 

A shiver travelled through Aaravos into Viren.

 

But Viren was more focused on the smooth skin under his palm. The wrist in his hand was warm, although there were areas that felt distinctly cooler than the rest. He frowned at the odd sensation.

 

Viren pulled his eyes away from their first point of contact to look at the other’s face instead. Though he had yet to move a muscle, Aaravos’ gaze had finally settled on Viren’s hand around his wrist and the unease had been replaced with curiosity instead.

 

For a moment, Aaravos simply stared. Then slowly, ever so carefully, he turned his hand in Viren’s loose grip. The steadiness of the motion, fingers trailing lightly over Viren’s sleeve, lent it an almost trance-like quality before the hand finally clasped over his wrist just as gently in return. Aaravos’ thumb curled in slightly before very deliberately tucking itself into the hem of Viren’s shirt, tracing invisible circles on the delicate skin at the inside of his wrist.

 

The hairs of Viren’s arms rose and his ears began to feel distinctly warm. Even his heartbeat quickened, it felt as though a small bird was fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t even begin to fathom why he was having such a reaction to an innocent act that was probably fuelled by curiosity more than anything. Still, he was grateful the elf was too distracted to see the effect such a small touch was having on him and even more so that the rest of the delicate fingers lay over his clothes.

 

Aaravos seemed entirely enthralled with the tiny patch of skin and absolutely content to simply stand there and caress it for a while. In the meantime, Viren was trying his best to suppress what reactions his body was providing him with, taking steady breaths and focusing on anything else.

 

His gaze was fixed firmly on the candle on the table when Aaravos’s thumb shifted once more, this time the movement was stuttered, coming to rest on Viren’s pulse. The touch was still light, too light to feel anything.

 

Another pause. Viren allowed his eyes to return to Aaravos’ face. This time, the elf’s gaze lay intent on his own thumb, waiting to feel Viren’s blood rushing through his veins.

 

With a deep, fortifying breath, the thumb pressed into Viren’s wrist just so. He prayed the frantic pace of his heart wasn’t too noticeable.

 

Unlikely.

 

The pulse seemed to snap Aaravos out of whatever thoughts had been haunting him. After only a few heartbeats, Aaravos exhaled in what sounded almost like relief. His eyes fluttered closed and the tense lines of his shoulders softened considerably.

 

Luckily for Viren, Aaravos apparently was too caught up in the sensation to even discern what the thrumming heartbeat could mean.

 

Once again, Viren entertained the thought that Aaravos might have conjured illusions in the past to fight off the loneliness. That maybe they didn’t have pulses. He knew that fully fleshed illusions were possible, but they were out of his capabilities and therefore he had never had the opportunity to test the limits of their existence. He would ask about that at some point.

 

What had been the lightest pressure around Viren’s wrist increased, still hesitant but present. There was a resolve in Aaravos’ eyes that hadn’t been there before.

 

Viren gripped the delicate wrist in kind, and gently he tugged the elf towards him. Aaravos followed easily.

 

Slowly both their hands made it through to the other side. Aaravos’ grasp around Viren’s wrist tightened decisively when his skin finally made contact with the cool air of the dungeons. But he continued allowing himself to be lead through the mirror.

 

One foot appeared over the bottom edge of the mirror. This time their hold on eachother served to help balance Aaravos as his first leg went through. Viren noted the grace with which the elf stepped with envy, even with someone to help him he would never would have managed to look to so elegant climbing out of a mirror frame.

 

Aaravos’ torso followed, and for the first time the elf presented him with a hefty resistance. Viren opened his mouth to demand why he had stopped. The words died almost immediately. Aaravos was looking back into the room behind with something akin to shock on his face. It quickly bled into rage.

 

He turned back to Viren with gritted teeth and ears low. This time, no coaxing was required on Viren’s part as Aaravos’ other hand reached through to grasp at the edge of the mirror. His tendons stood out sharply from the strength of his grip.

 

It became quickly apparent that something was preventing Aaravos from escaping. His muscles shook with the effort of trying to pull himself through.

 

Without thought, Viren brought his other hand to grasp at Aaravos’ arm and wrenched it towards himself as hard as he could.

 

The resistance gave and Aaravos fell through towards him. Viren just about caught him but the weight of both their bodies shot pain through his leg. He gritted his teeth through it, more focused on steadying Aaravos who was swaying on the spot and breathing heavily. Their hands were still clasped between them, although one of Viren’s was on Aaravos’ shoulder.

 

Aaravos’ unexpectedly high shoulder.

 

Viren couldn't help but stare at where his hand had made contact. He absently noted that he had grabbed onto the elf's shirt with his injured hand and wondered if it would stain. The feeling of grabbing onto a previously unreachable being on this side of the mirror left him a little awestruck. They had truly conquered powerful magic today with little to show by injuries.

 

A few more deep breaths had left them with a far steadier Aaravos.

 

Aaravos who had turned to stare intently through the mirror. There was a hint of the rage Viren had seen earlier although it seemed to have melted into resentment and sorrow.

 

Viren’s hand had slipped off of Aaravos’ shoulder. The other hand’s grip loosened slowly, he didn’t want to disturb whatever the elf was going through. Extricating his hand turned out to be easier than he had anticipated as Aaravos’ own hand had gone lax in his reverie.

 

Viren stepped back, leaning heavily against the chair that had been pushed aside and observed. Aaravos had left behind a prison, but maybe he had also left behind something akin to home. After all, it was impossible that he would have survived as long as he had in his prison if he hadn’t made it into somewhere he was comfortable.

 

Looking into the mirror, his gaze was drawn most of all to the books. Aaravos had shown himself to enjoy research. Viren empathized with that. Journals and textbooks had been his only friends for most of his life, aside from Harrow. The thought of permanently parting with the things that brought him comfort was daunting enough of a thought. Aaravos was living it.

 

The fleeting thought of running in to retrieve as many books as he could carry before the mirror locked them away crossed his mind. The impulse was quickly overtaken by the fear of taking Aaravos’ place in the mirror for the next thousand years.

 

The sound of glass cracking shattered the silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Thanks so much for your patience!
> 
> I've been on holiday but this chapter is now complete.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. <3

A fissure had appeared in the surface of the mirror that had not been there before.

 

Viren’s eyes widened. Inside the mirror, the elegant lines of the study had started to crack into jagged pieces like the glass on the surface. The fragments of the room slid against each other, sometimes collapsing over themselves accompanied by the sound of something rough scraping against glass. What remained of the spacious study crumpled on itself in abrupt, spasmodic pulses, creating a cramped caricature of itself.

 

Whatever was happening inside the mirror seemed to also be affecting its surface. As the room behind the glass continued to cave in, the glass splintered more as though under pressure. It didn’t look like it was going to stop until the mirror shattered.

 

Viren stepped forward. “We have to save it!”

 

There was too much to lose inside the mirror. And the powerful magic on the artifact itself could still be studied, possibly used again.

 

“No.”

 

He turned to look behind him.

 

“What-”

 

Aaravos shot him a cold glare as if Viren’s thoughts had been heard by the elf. His words died in his mouth.

 

“The only way that mirror is staying intact is if it can feed on more powerful magic.” His words sounded detached.

 

It was as though the breath was knocked out of Viren. He recalled Aaravos’ fury, his struggle to escape.

 

The unspoken words “ _ and I’m not going back _ ” were heard loud and clear.

 

Viren realized then that he had no right to decide what should happen to this mirror.

 

“Then we have to leave.” His throat felt constricted, Aaravos was standing far too close to the mirror for Viren’s comfort. “It might explode.”

 

Viren started making his way through the door, hissing in pain with each step.

 

In the doorway he turned around, fully expecting Aaravos to have followed him, only to find that the elf had yet to move away from the mirror. What sadness had plagued the elf was now hidden behind an intense focus and his face bore an expression of righteous satisfaction that bordered on vindictive. Viren was certain he had shared the same countenance when he had watched Thunder breathe his last.

 

A glaring light was beginning to break through the fissures. The grinding sound was bordering on deafening while the glass continued to judder more and more violently by the second.

 

And still Aaravos remained motionless.

 

One more crack. 

 

There was flash of blinding light.

 

Viren lurched forward with the sound of shattering glass and, for the second time that day, pulled Aaravos sharply towards himself. This time though, Viren did not manage to catch them. In stepping backwards, he had made the mistake of doing so onto his bad leg and Aaravos himself had whirled around to face him, unwittingly adding to the momentum of their fall. He crashed into Viren, who’s leg faltered under the weight of two bodies, and drove them into the wall behind them.

 

With with his leg still throbbing from the fall, Viren’s instinct was to grab onto something to take as much weight off of the offending limb as possible. As it turned out he still had a hold of Aaravos’s elbow although that didn’t matter in the end when he also had the weight of a very heavy elf keeping him upright.

 

His other hand had acted without his input, digging his fingers into the muscle of his thigh in an attempt to alleviate some of the cramping. 

 

Catching himself, Viren forced his grip to relax and placed all his weight onto his other leg. Instead, he focused on taking deep breaths through his nose instead, mentally cursing the elf the whole time.

 

Aaravos shifted back a little to give Viren room to move but remained closely pressed against him, one hand against the wall while the opposite arm remained relaxed in Viren’s grasp. 

 

The cell had gone dark with the destruction of the mirror. Only the candle on the table lit the room with its incandescence. Backlit by the warm glow, Aaravos’ hair glowed in a manner that could only be described as ethereal. The soft halo around his head complimented the shimmering stars across his cheeks in a most disarming manner.

 

It was at that moment that Viren realized rather belatedly that they were standing close enough that he could count the stars on Aaravos’ face if he wanted to.

 

Viren’s breath caught in his throat.

 

He had spent a lot of time discreetly watching the elf’s skin glow, wondering if some of the smaller stars had become brighter as their conversation had progressed. He could now confirm that they glimmered in a manner that was independent of each other, some in quicker pulses than others.

 

Being so close made Viren want to throw all caution in the wind and brush his fingers over the stars, to explore the odd combination of warm and cool skin he had noticed before.

 

His thoughts were disrupted by the ringing sound of a small piece of glass hitting the stone floor. It was a quiet sound but it was enough to make Aaravos recoil from it, once again pressing himself closer towards Viren.

 

The arm under his hand moved. Aaravos was gripping tightly onto the clothes at his waist, trembling. Given the sudden tension, Viren was certain the elf had also curled his hand on the wall into a fist.

 

Aaravos leaned his head against the cool stone, his breathing had gone harsh. Viren could feel the warm breath tickling his ear and the long hair brush the sensitive skin of his neck. He also felt the hairs at the back of his neck raise at the dual sensations.

 

It was an unexpectedly severe reaction to a mostly benign sound. Viren wasn’t certain what to make of the sudden panic but he knew that he needed to ground the elf somehow.

 

Slowly, Viren moved his free hand to lay on Aaravos’ waist, a gentle reflection of the elf’s position.

 

Aaravos flinched at the contact but did not attempt to remove Viren’s hand. In fact, his breathing stopped altogether.

 

When it became clear to Viren that the elf was not about to release his breath anytime soon, he pressed his hand more firmly into Aaravos’ side and whispered, “breathe.”

 

Aaravos’ breath rushed out of him in a long, shuddering sigh and his forehead left the wall to rest on Viren’s shoulder. He continued to take deep breaths through his mouth.

 

With the emotional crisis averted for now, Viren’s attention fell on the mirror. Aaravos had blocked his view of it before but now he could see that while the mirror had indeed shattered into hundreds of pieces, they had mostly stayed in place in the frame. Not a single shard was larger than the tip of his finger.

 

The destruction was well and truly complete.

 

The mirror had begun to fracture after Aaravos had left it and the elf’s words indicated that a magical being, most recently the elf in question, was somehow required to maintain it. That the mirror had somehow been connected to Aaravos would explain the absolute rage, most likely at his captors, when he had escaped, especially if he hadn’t realized that he was the source of the mirror’s power.

 

While he was disappointed at the loss of a powerful magical artifact, there was something particularly nefarious about a prison that fed off of its prisoner. In any case, he was certain that the little pieces of glass and the frame itself would have some magical residue left for him to analyze. And they had gotten Aaravos out after all. Not all was lost.

 

Speaking of Aaravos, the elf’s breathing had calmed down to a natural rhythm. He shifted, turning his head into Viren’s neck and pressing his nose along the high collar of the shirt that rested there. He took a deep breath.

 

Viren blinked.

 

“Are you... smelling me?”

 

There was movement of Aaravos’ head that somewhat resembled a nod but, to Viren’s bewilderment, the elf remained where he was. Viren cleared his throat.

 

He thought of the sweat and blood that had soaked into his shirt. Not knowing what else would discourage the elf, he spoke. “Well, I’m not sure I smell very good right now.”

 

“You smell divine.”

 

He felt his ears go warm.

 

The irony was not lost on Viren that one of the closest creatures to divinity had said such a thing about him. Not to mention the words were spoken with something unexpectedly close to reverence.

 

His instinct was to turn his face towards Aaravos, to look at him in disbelief. In doing so, Viren’s beard brushed across the elf’s cheek resulting in a light shiver and gentle sigh from him.

 

At last, Aaravos lifted his heads, his eyes fluttered open. He looked the most relaxed he had since stepping out of the mirror. Their faces were even closer than before, to the point that Viren could see the details in his amber irises which appeared to glow thanks to what should have been the whites of his eyes.

 

While he wasn’t particularly enjoying the cold stone at his back, the firm body at his front was quickly becoming a compelling reason to stay exactly where he was.

 

But this was not the time nor person to be in this situation with.

 

Viren stuttered, “w- we should go.”

 

Aaravos maintained their eye contact for a beat before he nodded and finally pushed himself away from the wall and subsequently off of Viren.

 

It was both a relief and a disappointment.

 

* * *

 

Thanks to the abuse his knee had taken that day, a sharp pain accompanied his every footfall. By the time he had made it up the first staircase he was gritting his teeth with each step and the second set of stairs was beginning to look very daunting.

 

Viren forced himself to take long, even steps anyway, adamantly refusing to rely too heavily on his staff. There was no reason for Aaravos to be aware of how weak his leg truly was.

 

The second set of stairs did indeed take its toll on him, by the time he reached the top he could feel yet more sweat soaking into his now surely ruined shirt. If he could see his reflection he was certain his skin would look sickly pale. 

 

Aaravos had undoubtedly noticed his struggle, there was no reason for them to be walking so slowly, but he said nothing. Either he was distracted by the new environment or he was more courteous than he had previously let on.

 

It occured to Viren that he should probably look behind him to make sure that the elf was following him, but he didn’t want to reveal just how much pain he was in by showing his face. He appeased himself with the fact that he could hear the rustle of clothing following not too far behind him.

 

On the other hand, there was no appeasing the pain in his leg. Each step only exacerbated the ache, and the muscle of his thigh had taken to twitching at random intervals.

 

He willfully ignored the offending limb, instead distracting himself with thoughts of how he would present the situation to Harrow now that they had succeeded.

 

He had previously spoken about acquiring an elven informant to get an idea of how Harrow would react. The King had scoffed at him. “What elf would betray Xadia for us? We would never be able to trust them.”

 

No amount of assuring Harrow that they could acquire some sort of leverage had convinced him.

 

It was just as well, Aaravos was a criminal in Xadia and would not be able to provide any recent intel on the nation anyway. No, the elf would have to take on a role closer to some sort of magical advisor.

 

That didn’t solve his problem on how to peacefully introduce Harrow to the situation. He could not just walk up Harrow and inform him he had a acquired a new advisor, not to mention the fact that said advisor was an elf.

 

Either they had to introduce him as an elf or figure out how to disguise him. Maybe they could charm a piece of jewelry to maintain an illusion around the wearer. That could be an interesting project with a practical outcome.

 

Viren wished he had thought of it earlier. He would present the idea to Aaravos in the morning after they had had some rest.

 

But for now he would focus on making their way to his chambers unnoticed.


	5. Chapter 5

 

The hidden passage glowed with the blue light of the crystals that lined the walls. Normally Viren took great comfort in walking through these corridors, there was no one to judge him here, he could bear his face, clear of any magical glamour. But the tension he was feeling made the light feel cold and harsh, grating on his nerves, and the echoes of their footfalls as their mouths remained silent lent the whole situation an eerie quality.

 

They had made a decent amount of progress through the corridors at a steady, if slow, pace. Viren, or rather his leg, was entirely to blame although he refused to admit that particular fact out loud. Thankfully, Aaravos had still made no mention of it.

 

The pain from the leg in question was beginning to border on unbearable and they had yet to even make it out of the hidden passage. Each step sent a jarring pain up his spine, and the resulting tension in his body had also become the source of a throbbing headache. But he refused to rest, here he had no excuse to stop, let alone sit down. At least in his chambers there were seats that he would be able to plausibly make use of without making a scene of his discomfort.

 

Of course, before the relief his chambers would afford him, there was still the pesky matter of getting past the guards. Viren had made sure to perform the ritual after dinner, claiming he would be continuing his research in his study. They were lucky enough that it was now long into the evening and they were unlikely to run into wandering staff and, he grimaced, excessively chatty diplomats. While the number of guards remained constant, they were also consistent in their positions and routines. As advisor to the King, Viren was more than familiar with the castle’s procedures and past exploits gave him the experience needed to go undetected.

 

The matter of navigation would be an easier concept to consider if the train of thought didn’t immediately lead to his leg and how it was very much going to limit his ability to move quickly into hidden alcoves and the like. 

 

Viren’s thigh seized, leg collapsing under his weight and lurching him forwards. He gasped, his staff skidded backwards, leaving him to the mercy of the quickly approaching ground.

 

He found himself being caught, first by the arm and then around his torso, almost as though the elf had been expecting him to fall over. He was grateful, despite himself, he did not want to think of the repercussions he might have suffered if his knee had been allowed to slam into the unforgiving stone.

 

It was a testament to Aaravos’ strength that he didn’t so much as grunt as he hoisted Viren up against himself. It unsettled him to realize that the elf had been paying more attention to his pain than he had first assumed, rather than getting lost in his own thoughts.

 

However, it was an undeniable relief to finally have something fully supporting him, although that didn’t save him from the continual agonizing spasms his thigh was going through. Part of him wanted to pull away from Aaravos, to claim he didn’t require any assistance. It lost to the stabbing pain which, if he was honest with himself, had him decidedly disinclined to move at all. The thought of any weight on his leg would have had him shuddering if he weren’t already suffering from tremors in all his extremities.

 

He felt himself being adjusted, encouraged to put all his weight on his functional leg. His body followed the instructions in a daze. He felt the arm around him loosen, sliding across his chest until all that remained was the light contact of a hand splayed over his heart, as if checking to see if could stand on his own.

 

Aaravos suddenly shifted to Viren’s side and he yelped as he felt the ground fall from under his feet. Instinctually, he threw his arms out for something to grab on to, the closest thing of which was Aaravos. One arm ended up around the elf’s neck while his opposite hand curled into a fist, grasping onto long silvery hair in the process, and pressing it firmly into Aaravos’ shoulder. His spasming leg was pressed into the elf’s stomach.

 

If Aaravos hadn’t been aware of the extent of his condition before, he certainly was now. But that was a concern for later. At that moment, Viren did the only thing he could, which was to hide his face against the side of Aaravos’ neck, breathing through gritted teeth.

 

He felt the telltale rhythm of Aaravos walking but he was too overwhelmed with the relief from being carried at this point to care. He hadn’t realized just how much pain he had been causing himself by remaining standing.

 

In anycase, it was a short walk. Aaravos stopped before they could have possibly gotten anywhere, he crouched and leaned forward, as though making to put Viren down on the floor.

 

Aaravos hissed and pulled Viren back into himself, apparently thinking better of it when the hand holding onto his hair yanked back in response. There was not a single chance Viren was about to let go of his current and only source of comfort. He did not want to have to deal the cold, stone floor right now. Not when there was a firm yet gentle body that was apparently willing to support him.

 

Since Viren was obviously not about to let go of the elf, Aaravos turned around and leaned back against the wall of the corridor. He felt his arm brush against stone as they slid down to the floor, settling with Viren very much in Aaravos’ lap.

 

Viren was quite comfortable, seated there against skin that was somehow both warm and cool, even as his leg continued to act up. In fact, it was so pleasant to share contact with another body that he wasn’t certain at this point he would have moved away even if he could.

 

Now that Aaravos wasn’t actively holding him up, Viren was able to lean his head against the elf’s shoulder without having to strain his neck. Without a second thought, he pressed the side of his forehead hard against Aaravos’ shoulder until he could feel a sharp collarbone dig into him. Viren focused on the pressure, using it to ground himself against the ache. He just about noticed the feeling of a mouth and nose pressing into the top of his head, it was a familiar sensation that he had long lost to time.

 

Aaravos’ hand slid up his back to the base of his neck where strong fingers dug into the taught muscles there. As the fingers slowly made their way up to his nape, Viren’s shoulders dropped at the miniscule release of tension, it didn’t take long for the throbbing in his head to also subside somewhat. Viren sighed at the respite, his leg was still in pain but he felt more himself now that the headache was no longer clouding his thoughts. He pulled his exhausted head back and allowed it to fall more naturally onto Aaravos’ shoulder, the grounding pressure of the collarbone no longer required to focus on.

 

The hand that was his nape slid further upwards into his hair, thumb rubbing comforting circles into his scalp.

 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Viren saw a movement towards his leg. He recoiled backwards in a panic, unwilling to let anything come into contact with it lest it cause him more pain. His momentum was interrupted by the hand on the back of his head and the connecting arm against his back.

 

“Don’t be alarmed.” The deep voice was low, soothing. It had been Aaravos’ hand, now suspended inches above his trembling thigh. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

 

“I’m fine.” Viren’s face burned, embarrassed by his strong reaction. 

 

He felt rather than heard Aaravos’ noncommittal hum that gave him the impression that the elf did not believe his words at all.

 

It was clear to him that Viren didn’t really have a choice on the matter, unable to move as he was, although he did get the impression that Aaravos wouldn’t go against his wishes if he asked him not to do whatever it was he had planned. However, aside from falling onto him in the first place, the elf had been nothing but helpful so far, supporting his weight and alleviating his tension.

 

Viren did the only thing he could, he buried his face in the elf’s neck, wincing in anticipation of more pain despite Aaravos’ prior assurances.

 

The hand didn’t make immediate contact with his leg, there was instead a short silence before he heard a murmured spell.

 

And still he sensed nothing that would imply that anything had changed.

 

He was about to ask Aaravos what he was doing when he felt it, warmth. There was no touch, only a soothing heat over his leg, so different from the damp cold of the dungeons. 

 

Slowly, Viren turned his face outwards to get a glimpse of what Aaravos was doing. The elf's hand was exactly where he last saw it, hovering just above his leg, but it was now radiating an intense warmth that had him relaxing fully into Aaravos’ body. Viren knew he must have moved it to draw a sigil to cast the heating spell. He wished he had been paying more attention, it wasn’t often one got to observe primal spells being cast this side of the breach, especially when it was what he assumed to be Star magic.

 

Viren sighed in contentment, the smallest smile gracing his lips as the muscle spasms reduced to painless twitches. The cramps would probably return when he would have to attempt to walk again, but for now he was free of them. 

 

Viren moved to touch Aaravos’ hand with his own  which had been resting on the elf’s shoulder the whole time. It also happened to be the one that was tangled in the elf’s hair and in his thoughtless movement, he ended up pulling on the fine strands again. This time though, Aaravos’ hand reached up to stop him, too late if the wince was anything to go by.

 

However, Aaravos still took hold of Viren’s wrist with the enchanted hand. Even through his sleeve, he felt it immediately, heat that reminded him of sitting too close to a fire, uncomfortable but not to the point of burning. He attempted to extricate his fingers from the hair, still soft despite the fact that Viren had made a mess of it. Aaravos’ grasp loosened in response, allowing him to pull his fingers free of the hair and his wrist out of the heated grip.

 

Viren didn’t slide it out completely free, though. He was still determined to explore this new spell.

 

Instead, he twisted his hand around until their palms met, pausing for a moment to truly experience the intensity of the heat with his bare skin. Viren watched as the back of his hand begon redden where Aaravos’ fingers had curled over and come into contact with it.

 

“Can you control the temperature?” He looked up at Aaravos, fascination painted across his face, and swallowed. Again, they had become very close.

 

Aaravos maintained eye contact briefly and, although the elf’s face was blank, something flashed behind the golden eyes. Viren would have described the look as intrigue if there hadn’t been an odd warmth alongside it, it wasn’t an emotion he able to decipher.

 

Finally, Aaravos nodded, eyes flicking down to their joint hands, faltering over something on its way down.

 

Viren decided not to dwell on it, instead placing his attention fully on the palm of his hand.

 

For a split second, the heat increased to a level that was near unbearable, Viren stubbornly kept his hand still however, and was rewarded with the gentler sensation of placing his cold hand in a ray of sunshine.

 

Satisfied with the display, Viren moved on to tracing the edges of Aaravos’ hand where he could feel the sudden change in temperature between the front and the back of it, starting with the elf’s thumb and then skirting around his palm. As Viren mapped out the lines of Aaravos’ oddly numbered fingers, he noticed the smallest tremors in the elf’s hand and a tension in the chest he was laying against.

 

Viren’s circuit was interrupted as the fingers he was tracing threaded themselves between his own. Viren looked up again, startled at the intimate gesture.

 

Aaravos spoke, “I wasn’t finished.”

 

Viren tried to search Aaravos’s face for an explanation for the words and, more importantly, the overtly affectionate action. However, the elf’s’ gaze was intent on their linked hands. With a squeeze, the elf pulled away moving back into position, only to stop as watched Viren’s hand hover awkwardly between them.

 

No explanations were offered.

 

Aaravos moved his tangled hair over the arm that was still hanging limp over his shoulder and behind him, away from the threat of Viren’s grasp. He took the hint, resting his hand in a loose fist at the junction between the elf’s shoulder and neck. A pleased rumble reverberated through Aaravos’ chest as Viren’s fingers splayed across the side of his neck and his thumb grazed the fine, elven cheekbone.

 

Viren could feel his brain attempt to decipher Aaravos’ repeatedly bewildering actions but was distracted before he could come to any conclusions.

 

The elf’s hand had moved back to Viren’s thigh, this time laying lightly on top of the muscle. He felt the warmth flare up to its original intensity.

 

“This will hurt,” Aaravos warned him. “But it will also help.”

 

Now that Viren had an idea of what the elf was attempting to do, he nodded and returned his face to the crook of Aaravos’ neck, jaw already tense.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is later than usual. I'm sorry. I still love you guys.

And hurt it did.

 

Objectively, he realized that Aaravos’ was pushing into his thigh with his palm only very lightly, but the reactive clench of the muscle had him cringing anyway. Slowly, Aaravos increased the wide expanse of pressure over the muscle while Viren pulled on Aaravos’s neck from the other side to bury his face in deeper.

 

The additional heat of the spell meant that his muscles relaxed a little faster than with a normal massage. Viren was especially grateful for this fact when Aaravos started digging his fingers into a knot he found near the top of his thigh.

 

His whole body tensed. His fingers curled, nails trying to find purchase on anything, closest of which was the skin of Aaravos’ neck, who admirably didn’t even flinch. In a moment of clarity he realized despite the lack of reaction that he was probably hurting Aaravos and clenched his hands into tight fists, nails cutting into his own palms instead.

 

Aaravos’ fingers continued on their mission, the pain increased at each new area he treated before bleeding away under his ministrations. The cycle of pain and release repeated itself over and over as he moved steadily along the muscle, leaving behind relaxed tissue, albeit more than a little sore.

 

Aaravos had nearly made it to Viren’s knee where his leg injury was most sensitive, having cleared away most of the tension that had been crippling him. He considered telling the elf to stop where he was, the area around his knee was far more fragile and difficult to navigate without causing more pain. Anyway, there was no point trying to treat an injury that had stubbornly resisted Viren’s own attempts over the years.

 

But his leg was beginning to relax and his lower back felt a little less tight. There was no identifying the passage of time in these corridors but he did know that the tension in his body had diminished to the point that he had stopped pulling so strongly at the elf’s neck. It seemed to Viren that Aaravos had both the skill and the knowledge to ease his leg into functionality again.

 

Aaravos fingers shifted just so and suddenly Viren couldn’t breathe. A cry caught in his throat, unable to escape. His whole body tensed up again and tears seeped through his clenched eyelids, dampening Aaravos’ collar. It was odd to him that he managed to feel so cold to the point of shivering while his thigh felt as though a scorching poker had been jammed into it.

 

Viren shoved the heel of his hand into the elf’s collarbone. He stopped himself at the first sign of resistance. An abrupt movement of Aaravos’ hand could result in more pain on Viren’s part.

 

But Viren should have warned him. He knew exactly what Aaravos had done, he had made the same mistake himself many times before attempting to alleviate the tension in his leg. But he had trusted the elf to know what he was doing, he always gave the impression that he did.

 

It had been a mistake, he shouldn’t have allowed Aaravos to touch him. But he couldn’t let go of him either.

 

“Breathe.” But the voice sounded muffled, unconvincing. “You have to breathe.”

 

No. Nothing could persuade him that any kind of movement would be beneficial to him, including his chest. A minor part of him recognized the words as something he had said not an hour ago, but a gray haze was beginning to encroach on his self inflicted darkness.

 

Something settled on his cheek.

 

“Viren.” He jerked. “I need you to breathe.”

 

A whimper broke out of him and he was for gasping air.

 

He was vaguely aware of being hushed, of soft apologies being murmured into his hair, but the actual words didn’t quite register. The sensation of light fingers tracing his cheekbones on the other hand cut through the haze of panic.

 

He focused on his breathing, in and out into Aaravos’ shoulder until he began to feel stifled at which point he finally turned his face outward. The breath of cold air was a relief to his lungs.

 

Aaravos’ went quiet. His finger made abrupt motion towards his cheeks as though to wipe away the wetness his Viren’s tears had left behind, but he seemed to think better of it before they made proper contact. The result was a glancing touch against his cheek and a brush against his eyelashes before the fingers moved back into his hair to continue the comforting motion he had used before.

 

He realized then that he wasn’t actually in any pain, or rather nothing severe. He had panicked at the initial pain, maybe it was the exhaustion that had aggravated his reaction, he couldn’t be certain. But it had come and gone like an excruciating bee sting, all that was left was a general soreness that he was all too familiar with.

 

He must have been more distracted in his panic than he had first thought because a quick glance down showed Aaravos’ hand resting comfortably on his hip like it had always been there. He had no memory of when the hand had stopped radiating heat or when it had moved but the proof was right there.

 

It didn’t matter, Viren’s emotions were too frayed at the moment to deal with the implications of the recurring intimacy between them from the moment he had reached into the mirror. He needed to gather himself first, to get rid of his shameful need for affection and support, proof of his weakness. It was probably the combination of pain and exhaustion that had lowered his inhibitions to the point where he would allow himself to get into this situation. Now that he thought about it, it had been almost twenty years since he had found himself in someone else’s lap.

 

Viren felt a familiar tickling sensation on his hand. He looked up to find the caterpillar in the process of crawling down Aaravos’ neck and onto his still curled fist. Once the caterpillar had managed to get its whole body onto his hand, now loose. His fingers trailed across the elf’s neck as Viren pulled back and his other arm finally unhooked itself from Aaravos’ neck and settled in his lap. His back straightened somewhat as he focused on the creature.

 

He had completely forgotten about it in the process of getting Aaravos out of the mirror. There was a beat in which he inspected the creature wondering when it had made its way onto Aaravos and how he hadn’t noticed. 

 

His confusion must have shown on his face because Aaravos answered his musings immediately. “He crawled onto me when you first collapsed.”

 

He turned to Aaravos, something in that statement rang odd to him but he couldn’t place what it was. In any case, there wasn’t much he could say to that, it was more than plausible enough since he hadn’t been aware of many sensations aside from the ones in his leg at the time. 

 

As though reading his thoughts, Aaravos continued, “you were a little distracted.”

 

Viren’s attention fell once again on the caterpillar. It occurred to him then, what had bothered him about the initial statement.

 

“He?” It was strange that Aaravos had decided to offer the caterpillar a personal pronoun when previous he had looked at it with a certain amount of disdain.

 

“It seems our little friend has… evolved. I believe through his connection to me, he has developed rudimentary emotions.” He watched as Aarvos gently pushed a long finger against the front of the caterpillars head, the corners of his lips quirked up when it nuzzled against it. “It would be odd to say ‘it’, knowing he feels and understands us to a certain degree.”

 

Well, there was an interesting development. “And you can feel these emotions?” 

 

“Just as he can feel mine.”

 

Viren contemplated the creature before him, petting it in long, regular strokes. He felt Aaravos shift underneath him and peripherally noted the elf’s head tipping back against the wall as far as his horns would allow. However, he was more concerned with the significance of the information Aaravos had offered.

 

It wasn’t entirely new knowledge, although Viren had not suspected the connection working on an emotional level. The admission startled Viren, nonetheless. The elf had essentially admitted to a deeper link between the two without so many words. There was no reason for him to reveal such information unless he was aware that Viren already knew. Of course the emotions of a caterpillar meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but the depth of the connection reinforced the creature as one of Aaravos’ little known weaknesses.

 

Now that Aaravos had acknowledged Viren’s own awareness of the caterpillar’s abilities, although the sentience was admittedly new, it didn’t seem right for him to keep… him.

 

“Do you want,” Viren hesitated, “him back?”

 

Aaravos’ face was valiantly neutral as he looked back down at the caterpillar, but he looked flushed, or at least what Viren thought was flushed for the elf. He got the impression that the skin of Aaravos’ cheeks had grown darker, that the stars glowed a little brighter.

 

“No, keep him. He likes you.” Aaravos shook his head and with a charming smile he continued, “besides, he might become useful in the future.”

 

Viren’s hand stopped stroking the caterpillar and he felt a reflexive, near imperceptible squeeze of the hand at his hip.

 

“Oh.” As far as responses went, it certainly wasn’t the most eloquent. But Aaravos’ reply hadn’t been the answer he was expecting.

 

His hand that was holding the caterpillar settled on his lap.

 

There were a few things to unpack in from Aaravos’ three little statements. However his mind remained thoroughly focused on only one thing. They didn’t have so deep a bond, yet for some reason Aaravos had decided that he trusted Viren enough to reveal what, in Viren’s opinion, should have been kept secret for as long as possible while entrusting him with a creature that could be used to harm him. He didn’t understand.

 

Together they watched as the caterpillar settled down.

 

Viren’s eyes flicked up. “You know, I think that was the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

 

The elf blinked and his eyes went unfocused, Viren could practically see the elf reviewing every single conversation they ever had.

 

Aaravos’ eyes snapped back into focus. “So it was.” There was a beat before the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “But in all fairness, your were very reluctant to give it to me in the first place.”

 

That was true enough. For the same reason he had demanded Aaravos’ he had initially refused to give his own; there was no knowing what kind of knowledge could be gleaned from a name. At the time, with the number of books available to Aaravos, Viren had been cautious. He was now aware that while the magical knowledge there had remained far from outdated, the history books had certainly been.

 

“Can you stand?”

 

Viren shook his musings away and carefully placed the caterpillar in one of the pockets at his waist. He took a moment to examine his leg, slowly flexing and extending his knee, there was nothing outstanding about it except for the usual discomfort he had long gotten used. A good sign.

 

He nodded and bent both his knees, placing the foot of his uninjured leg firmly on the ground. Although he loathed to rely on Aaravos for the countless time that hour, he placed one hand on the elf’s shoulder and the other on the leg behind him, close to the knee.

 

Aaravos’ hands also moved, framing his hips, ready to support him on his way up.

 

In one smooth motion, Viren pushed his weight onto his leg and then his body into a standing position. He felt Aaravos’ hands slip from him as gained balance on his own.

 

Viren placed a hand on the wall next to him as he tested out his bad leg, gingerly putting more and more weight on it. The sound of continued shuffling behind him indicated that Aaravos had gotten up and was probably stretching his legs and back after having to lean against an uncomfortable, stone wall with a grown man in his lap.

 

He was surprised but pleased to find his leg offering little to no protest as he took a few experimental test. Aaravos’ little massage had worked wonders on the damaged leg.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to give in.” Viren turned around to face Aaravos, who was finally at a proper distance from him. The elf bent over to pick up the staff, it took a monumental effort on Viren's part to prevent his eyes from wandering, and offered it to him. “As it turns out, you are even more... tenacious than I had realized.”

 

Viren the snatched the staff out of Aaravos’ hand, taking moment to inspect it for any damage. "You say that like its a bad thing." 

 

“I would have admired it if that tenacity didn’t also fall thoroughly in the realm of idiocy.”

 

Viren bristled, mouth already open to defend himself.

 

Aaravos rolled his eyes, cutting him off before he had the chance with a condescending look and a statement that held too much truth to allow Viren to refute. "You've caused yourself severe pain, apparently to cling onto some meaningless sliver of pride"

 

Viren’s mouth snapped shut. He dusted himself off and with a decisive thud of his staff on the ground, he brushed past Aaravos.

 

“Are you coming?”


	7. Chapter 7

By the time they made it to his study, Viren felt considerably more like himself.

 

After his initial hesitation, his gait had smoothed into his usual long strides, complete with minor twinges that he was used to dealing with anyway. And there was no more unnecessary contact between him and Aaravos, casual or otherwise.

 

The King, and therefore the staff, being uninformed of Aaravos’ presence as they were, meant that a certain amount of stealth was required to make it to Viren’s chambers. It was not an inconsiderable distance seeing as his study was in a semi-public wing, meant for entertaining dignitaries and the like, and his chambers were in the private wing.

 

General evasion would be satisfactory for most of the walk except for the transition from the more public wing to the private one where a pair of guards were always stationed at the door. There were of course staff routes, but it would be considered exceedingly odd should Viren be seen in those, let alone with an elf at his heels. He had not been seen using those paths since his early adulthood, sneaking to the kitchens for wine and pastries, and he would not begin again now.

 

Although it appeared they would have to if they didn’t find a way to conceal Aaravos from sight. An illusion might have done the trick but it would still be considered odd for Viren to be leading a stranger into the private wing in the middle of the night. He flushed at the thought of the rumours that would result from it.

 

“Well,” unable to come with a solution himself he turned to Aaravos, “I don’t suppose you have a useful trick up your sleeve?”

 

He twisted around just in time to catch sight of Aaravos flickering out of sight. It lasted only a split second before he was back, fully visible.

 

An invisibility spell.

 

“That was Moonshadow Magic!”

 

Viren’s exclamation was met with a dry look. _Obviously_ , it said.

 

“You’re connected to the Moon Arcanum, as well?”

 

He expected his mind to be flooded with questions at such a revelation, but in reality he only had one. _How?_

 

“Yes, Viren.” The long-suffering tone silenced any further questions Viren might have asked at the moment. “Why don’t we talk about my skills after we’ve succeeded in getting to your chambers, hm?”

 

Viren wanted to argue but he was also highly aware that he wanted to return to the comfort of his own chambers as well, so he swallowed back his curiosity and simply nodded.

 

Satisfied, Aaravos turned his attention back to his own hand. He drew a symbol and spoke words that were both unfamiliar to Viren, unsurprising since dark magic limited the kinds of spells that required more power to fuel them. As far as moon magic was concerned, invisibility fell very much in the range of powerful spells. So much so that the Moonshadow elves required the full moon to perform such feats. Yet Aaravos seemed confident that he would be able to cast the spell and maintain it.

 

The hairs along the back of Viren’s neck raised at the implication of the sheer power Aaravos must have access to.

 

Aaravos faded from his sight again, but just as the last attempt, he flickered back into view.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m…” Aaravos hesitated before admitting, “having trouble concentrating.”

 

Aaravos had not shown any indication of distress since having left the cell, but Viren would have been surprised if he found out that the elf _wasn’t_ suffering from any emotional turmoil. It was a sudden and enormous change in situation.

 

While he was embarrassed to mention it so soon after have rid himself of that situation, his next statement was undeniably relevant. “But you managed to maintain the heating spell.”

 

“That didn’t require as much mental effort.” Of course, a more powerful spell would require more than just raw power. One needed to be able to hold the shape they were take, or in this case a lack thereof, in their mind.

 

With Aaravos unable to perform, that left them with one option. “Right, I suppose we’re doing this the old fashioned way then.”

 

Viren tried weighing their options, the main path left them with many alcoves and decorative statues to hide behind but more guards to avoid while the staff passages did the opposite. Then again there was the door that to the private wing that was guarded at all times.

 

Aaravos interrupted his thoughts with a frustrated sigh, “I just need something to focus on.”

 

“Fine, then.” Viren crossed his arms, Aaravos struggling with his spell and the conversation weren’t getting them anywhere, they needed to make progress. “What do you need?”

 

Aaravos went still, Viren could see the elf carefully contemplating his next actions. He seemed to come to a decision. Meeting Viren’s eyes resolutely, Aaravos reached out a hand, palm up, and waited.

 

Viren watched the hand with suspicion, wondering what the elf wanted.

 

Aaravos inclined his head, indicating his crossed arms.

 

Hesitantly, Viren uncrossed his arms and reached out as well, palm faced down. He clenched his teeth at yet another intimate gesture between them, they were doing this far too often for mere acquaintances.

 

Aaravos extended his arm further, hand forgoing Viren’s own and instead reaching for his wrist. And repeated what he had done in the mirror, tucking his thumb under Viren’s sleeve and pressing the pad of it against his pulse. Meanwhile, his other hand drew a glyph in preparation for the spell.

 

With one last glance at their joint hands, Aaravos closed his eyes and whispered the spell. Again, the elf’s face faded away, it flickered in front of Viren once, twice, and then settled into nothingness.

 

Viren’s gaze wandered around the general outline of where he knew the elf to be standing, pleased. This meant they would be able to take the main path with little issue.

 

He could still clearly feel the touch of Aaravos’ hand on his wrist. The familiar pressure came with the realization that Aaravos had been using him to stay grounded since before he had left the mirror. It explained the elf’s constant tactility. He needed another person, a warm body to simply be there for him. Viren wasn’t certain what the elf was suffering from exactly, only that Viren’s presence, his touch, was helpful.

 

The real question was whether Viren wanted to be that person that Aaravos relied on. For now he had the distinct advantage of being required for the elf to perform more complicated spells, but with an apparently larger arsenal than the average mage, Aaravos was dangerous even without them.

 

Aaravos’s reliance meant that Viren was not necessarily indispensable but he was certainly in less danger, but who knew how long that would last. The week? The evening?

 

A small part of him relished in being needed, perhaps wanted. He brushed it aside.

 

Viren moved away, ready to leave the confines of his study. However, when his hand slipped free of Aaravos’ grip, elf flitted back into view.

 

It seemed the way wasn’t going to be so easy after all.

 

* * *

 

Viren tried to keep himself from advertising his unease, as though he didn’t have an elf delicately attached to him by the wrist of the hand that had a hold of the staff. It wasn’t a particularly strong grip but it was enough to keep him aware of Aaravos’ presence. Only the elf’s finger and thumb made contact with his skin, arranged in such a way that wouldn’t ruck up his sleeve too noticeably.

 

It was difficult to imagine that Aaravos had a consistent awareness of Viren’s pulse, the rhythm of their steps surely interrupted the beat. But the elf seemed content with the current arrangement and they’d had no incident of involving the spell faltering just yet, so Viren wasn’t going to complain.

 

It was late in the evening and if any guard noticed anything amiss, none made the effort of mentioning it. They knew not to question the high mage of Katolis and in that moment Viren was incredibly thankful for his high station.

 

The double doors to the private wing was in sight, bracketed by two everpresent guards, the one on the right of which appeared to be slumped against the wall. Viren’s instinct was that he had been attacked and was injured in some way, but seeing the woman standing next to him, relatively alert, chased away his paranoid thoughts. The guard was probably dozing on the job.

 

The other one had apparently finally caught sight of him, and was leaning slightly across the doorway, probably attempting to wake the sleeping man. Viren despaired at the state of the royal guard, the fact that he was able to take stock of the pair before either of them even noticed him walking in the middle of the hall towards him with the sound of his staff announcing his presence was discouraging to say the least. But today the guards’ inattention worked out in their favor.

 

He had approached just enough to hear the increasingly panicked whispers of the guard.

 

“...is going to put us back on stable duty. I swear if you don’t -” She cut herself off with a nervous smile and glance towards her partner, then greeted him even though he was still too far for it to be considered polite, “Lord Viren.”

 

They came to a stop in front of the doors. He was still acutely aware of Aaravos on his arm and wanted to get the situation over with as quickly as possible but he also had to keep to his character. Lord Viren would never leave this kind of behaviour unpunished. But neither did he want to make a scene.

 

He settled for a pointed glance at the sleeping guard, clearly conveying his disapproval but that Viren unwilling to dress him down right now when he was clearly on his way to his chambers after a long day of work.

 

The guard swallowed. “I’ll have him report to the Head Guard in the morning, sir.”

 

Viren nodded. “See that he does.”

 

And with that the guard pushed both doors open. She stepped aside with a salute, holding one door open but the other swung freely, pivoting back towards its closed position. They had almost made it past the doors but Aaravos was a step behind him, meaning the door would certainly hit the elf.

 

With a quick step to the side Viren pulled Aaravos out of the way and planted his hand against the open door.

 

Blood drained from his face.

 

There was instant wherein Viren’s his wrist slipped free of Aaravos. He didn’t dare look behind him to see if what he feared had come to pass. But the guard seemed no more alarmed than before. Confused and concerned described her expression much better.

 

Everyone in the castle was aware of his old injury, although most knew not ask after his health. The obvious thing would have been to straighten up and let the guard assume his leg had faltered or even confirm her assumption by speaking two short words, _my leg_.

 

But his damnable mouth betrayed him.

 

“Guard.” Spoken as though he had an order to follow the statement. There was a long pause as Viren gathered his thoughts, eyes remaining sharp on the guard’s. The most obvious topic had already been spoken of so he would have to come up with a lie. And try as he might, Viren was terrible at lying. “There was cat. Near the entrance to the gardens. Make sure it’s dealt with.”

 

“Uh.” Chasing after rogue animals was not part of her job, an imaginary one no less, he knew that and so did she. But still she saluted him again. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good.” With a nod, Viren swept out of the doorway, more than ready to collapse on his bed after this horrid evening.

 

When heard the door finally click shut behind him he allowed his head to drop into his hand before moving on to pinch his nose. A cat. Of all the things he could have said. On the other side of the door he hear a loud clank followed by the guard’s barely hushed shouting at her colleague.

 

A laugh bubbled in his throat at the ridiculousness of the situation, what a farce that conversation had been. Viren stopped himself, although he doubted the guards behind the door would have heard him considering the commotion they were making, it wouldn’t do for him to be found laughing to himself in a corridor in the middle of the night.

 

An amused huff escaped him nonetheless.

 

He realized then that Aaravos had been standing there silently, probably observing him. He glanced around, there was a long stretch of empty corridor. He decided he could break their silence to quietly articulate a few words against the mocking that was probably running to the elf’s head. “Shut up.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” There was definitely a note of teasing in his voice.

 

He groused back, “I can feel you laughing at me.”

 

Viren started walking again, dragging Aaravos with him.

 

The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful and when he finally closed the door behind him, he sighed in relief at the familiar sight and pulled his arm away from Aaravos.

 

“Well, we’ve finally made it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**** His relief didn’t last very long.

 

It took six steps into the room, which was far more than six steps too many than it should have, for Viren to realize the next glaring issue of the evening.

 

The bed.

 

He couldn’t get a break, although admittedly this was his own fault. This was the result of too much time being preoccupied with deciding what to tell Harrow instead of planning exactly what to do in the event they actually managed to free the elf. He was apparently incapable of planning ahead where Aaravos was concerned. 

 

The elf either hadn’t noticed the issue or didn’t care. In fact, he walked towards the closest window with the single-mindedness of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. The stars.

 

Aaravos stopped in front of the window, already bathed in the light of the stars through the glass. The ones on his body glowed brighter in response.

 

Viren took a few more steps into the room, giving the elf a wide berth. It wasn’t dark, the moon shined through and lit the room quite well. It allowed him to catch sight of shaking hands hesitating on the latch. His mind conjured an image of himself encompassing one of Aaravos’ slimmer hands in his own, helping with the initial twist. He didn’t need to.

 

The latch turned and a gentle breeze helped push the window open.

 

Aaravos’ head tilted back and a contented sigh escaped him. Whether it was in reaction to his first breath of fresh air in years or the starlight hitting his shimmering skin directly, Viren didn’t know. Although he would have wagered the latter.

 

The glow bloomed into an aura. Viren could almost see tendrils of light reaching for the night sky flare from Aaravos’ body.

 

It occurred to him that he was witnessing someone reconnect with their Source after many long years. That was uncommon enough in and of itself. But this was a Startouch Elf, such an occasion must be exceptionally rare. And the result was breathtaking, like watching a star form in front of his very eyes.

 

The brightness and colour of which could never be mistaken for candlelight.

 

That was when his self-preservation took effect. Viren grabbed Aaravos’ upper arm and tugged him back, trying to moving him out of the window’s vicinity.

 

Aaravos resisted, looking back at Viren with eyes that could only be described as betrayed.

 

Viren stuttered, “I- I’m sorry.” In its brightness, the arm felt distinctly warmer than it had previously. He dropped his hand. “There are patrols in the forest.” They had a clear view of the castle just as Viren and Aaravos could see the large expanse of green that was the forest below.

 

A strange light emanating from somewhere in the castle was worth reporting. More importantly, the guards knew that Viren would want to know if there was even the slightest chance the palace had been infiltrated and he would be expected to order a search of the castle accordingly.

 

Aaravos nodded and stepped back from the window until he was out of sight of the forest, but made no effort in hiding the longing look he cast towards the window. His light dimmed with each step. Guilt stirred in Viren’s chest, he had taken Aaravos from one prison only to trap him in another.

 

The elf’s continued silence prompted Viren to continue speaking. “We can keep the window open as we sleep if that’s what you would like.” It was the end of summer, the nights weren’t too cool yet.

 

Aaravos smiled gently at the offered compromise. “I would appreciate it.”

 

“Alright, just try to stay away from it when you,” he made an all-encompassing gesture indicating Aaravos’ body which had dimmed to a slightly brighter than usual radiance, “glow.”

 

“It will fade with some time under the stars.” So that was just the initial reaction, the words implied that Aaravos wouldn’t react so brilliantly once he’d had a chance to properly reconnect with his Source.

 

“We will visit the gardens, I promise.” Aaravos looked the way Viren felt, doubtful. “Once we’ve sorted out your presence with the King.” Assuming he didn’t get tried for treason instead and Aaravos thrown into another, far more miserable cell.

 

Aaravos’ gaze turned curious, his ears pricked up at the mention of Harrow.

 

Too exhausted to answer questions he didn’t have the answer to, Viren cut him of before he had the chance to ask. “Right. Well.” It was time to tackle the single bed in the room, large though it may be. “You may take the bed.”

 

Aaravos’ eyebrows hitched up. “And where will you sleep?”

 

Viren glanced at the loveseat by the fire.

 

There was scoff. “You wouldn’t fit.”

 

“I would fit better than you.” Viren crossed his arms. “And besides, you are the guest.”

 

There was silence as Aaravos watched him attempt to not fidget with his buttons for a beat. “You are avoiding a very obvious solution.”

 

“Because it wouldn’t be appropriate.” He straightened up, ready to defend his reasoning against the unimpressed elf.

 

“After everything that has transpired this evening I hardly think sharing a bed would be any more  _ inappropriate _ ,” Aaravos countered, the final word emphasized in his exasperation. And then, kinder, he continued, “You won’t be doing your leg any favours acting like this, Viren.” Now that his thoughts were no longer clouded with pain or distracted with how to move through the castle as stealthily as possible, he was able to appreciate the sound of his name on Aaravos’ tongue. Especially when spoken so softly, almost sweetly.

 

His pleasant moment of distraction was ruined when Aaravos spoke up again in a more humorous tone, "You’ll undo all my good work."

 

Aaravos was right, he would never be able to rest in the loveseat and neither would the elf. Sleeping on the floor was another option, but that was even more undignified than stuffing himself into a space far too small for him, and even with the carpeting he doubted it would be any more comfortable.

 

Viren tried not to grimace in distaste but he couldn’t think of a plausible alternative that would result in all parties sleeping comfortably and was far too tired to argue when he knew he had already lost.

 

“Fine,” Viren’s shoulders sagged, “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get ready for bed.”

 

However, he turned to his desk first. He hadn’t thought to bring the bowl so he unclipped the pouch containing the caterpillar and laid it open so the creature could exit if it wished, which it did part way before settling on the soft leather.

 

He picked up a candle holder that sat there and snapped a flame into existence.

 

Viren didn’t usually wear a shirt to bed in the warmer months, but with the beginning of fall and an elf in his bed, now seemed as good a time as any to begin. He picked out a sleeping shirt from his wardrobe on his way to the washroom, thankful that Aaravos was apparently still too distracted by the stars to noticed that he  _ only  _ grabbed a shirt because his sleeping trousers were already sitting by the wash basin. He didn’t put it past Aaravos to be able deduce that he was only wearing a shirt because he was sharing the bed with the elf.

 

Shutting the door behind him, he exhaled and leaned back against it. He was alone.

 

While Aaravos had been mostly unobtrusive when he wasn’t needed, Viren had spent the evening acutely aware of his presence. He always felt the expectation to be assertive, elegant, and, most importantly, composed when there was company, and while it seemed Aaravos didn’t hold him to that expectation, Viren still felt the need to perform. It was nice to not feel like he had to hold himself together, there in the washroom. It would be nicer to be able to do so in company like he hadn’t in twenty years.

 

He was particularly thorough with his routine, doing his best to scrub off all the sweat and blood of the evening, although he was careful around his hand. He was heavily self conscious of the fact that he actually needed a bath brought in if he was truly going to wash the scent of salt off his skin. He leaned over the wash basin and used the pitcher to douse his hair with water for good measure, uncaring of the rivulets running down his back.

 

The cool water settled his discomfort with the situation somewhat, fortifying his will to go through with the plan and gain some help to win the war. For Harrow if nothing else.

 

He toweled himself off.

 

Having dressed, Viren pondered his reflection. The night shirt’s collar was deeper than he would have preferred with company but a proper shirt would have been far too obvious and a lot less comfortable. At least this way he could pretend that he always slept with a shirt on.

 

Viren stepped out into the darkened room.

 

Aaravos stood out immediately as the only source of light in the room, he created an inviting glow that beckoned all towards the bed. He lay loosely curled, half under the covers, noticeably on the side closest to the windows, facing them. At some point he had opened the second window that was parallel to the bed so the light would shine directly onto him. One of his arms was outstretched over the side, reaching.

 

He didn’t seem inclined to make use of the washroom. And it didn’t look like needed to either. His appearance was enviously immaculate despite the trials of the evening, although his hair was a little disheveled. He made a note to himself to track down a brush in the morning.

 

The morning which he already knew was going to bring him so much grief.

 

Viren quietly made his way to the bed, unsure if Aaravos had fallen asleep. He imagined the elf was as emotionally exhausted as Viren was physically.

 

He blew out the candle and placed it on the bedside table before getting into the bed, careful not to jostle it too much, and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Far too much had happened in the span of a couple hours.

 

Sitting against the headboard in the silence and darkness he experienced an illusion of privacy, that he could actually look at the body next to him without caution nor judgement. He sent a tentative glance in Aaravos’ direction.

 

It registered with Viren then why the elf seemed to glow more than usual, Aaravos’ back was completely exposed. A short inspection of the room revealed clothing neatly placed over the back of one of the armchairs and rustling gently in the breeze, thankfully without the trousers. Leaning slightly to the side, he caught sight of the glinting belt on the seat and boots standing dutifully next to each other. They were arranged with such care.

 

It surprised him until the sobering thought that these items were the only objects Aaravos had left, tattered as they were. An unexpected sympathy filled his chest. Aaravos had lost everything. Presumably his family and friends he when was first incarcerated and for a second time as his home and precious books were crushed into nothing before his eyes.

 

In the continued quiet, Viren watched the rhythmic shift of Aaravos’ shoulders as he breathed.

 

He slid down the bed, laying on his back with the intent of falling asleep but even tired as he was, his eyes wandered. They tracked the slope of Aaravos’ spine and the angles of his shoulder blades. They mourned the absence of the long neck he had become very familiar with but caught on the glossy hair that obscured it. They were occupied most with charting out the stars of Aaravos’ back.

 

If he were a weaker man, his fingers might have traced the lines his eyes were drawing.

 

He heard a rustling sound and a shift in the mattress. He quickly straighten his neck and willed his eyes away from their fixation. In his periphery, Viren was able to see Aaravos turn to face him, carefully lifting his head in a motion that spoke of years of practice avoiding his horns getting caught on the bedding. The corner of his mouth twitched.

 

With Aaravos facing him, Viren kept his eyes diligently on the ceiling.

 

He didn’t expect to his hand to be captured in warmth.

 

Viren’s eyes instinctively met Aaravos’, there was a request in the golden eyes that was asked through a gentle tug on his hand.  _ Come closer. _

 

There was nothing demanding about it, the silent nature of the request gave him a chance to ignore it if wanted or to move closer while never acknowledging their actions.

 

Or he could acknowledge the strange relationship they had developed after months of watching each other through a barrier of glass.

 

By keeping his eyes on Aaravos’ as he shuffled closer. By gripping back a little harder as he turned onto his side, pulling Aaravos into him as did. By holding Aaravos’ hand to his heart. His heartbeat.

 

Aaravos responded by flattening his hand and pulling Viren deeper into his chest. His other arm slide slid under Viren to wrap itself around his waist.

 

Viren was acutely aware of the fact that the elf was holding back, he had lifted Viren with ease and could have surely knocked the breath out of him with this simple motion. But he hadn’t. The trembling in his arm wasn’t from overexertion but from trying to prevent himself from using his full strength to crush Viren into his chest. And while he didn’t consider the other arm around his middle to be in the most comfortable position, it gave him a sense of security that he appreciated.

 

There between the patchwork of hot and cold against his back and the furnace over his heart, Viren was overcoming with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia that came with the privilege of being held in a way he hadn’t been in years. He was immeasurably and unexpectedly grateful to be allowed to experience what had become an elusive luxury in his life.

 

Viren threaded his fingers through Aaravos’, marvelling at how they framed the elf’s hand so perfectly. He squeezed, hoping to return the comfort the elf was granting him, whether he knew it or not. Behind him, Aaravos melted, body relaxing in a wave that originated from his hand.

 

“Why do you allow this?” Viren felt the words against his ear as they escaped alongside a shaky exhale.

 

“Because I know you need it.” Aaravos tensed, arm pulling Viren in impertibly closer, the movement encouraged him to continue. “And I’m starting to realize that I might need it as well.”

 


End file.
